


When He Loved Me

by lilsamarooo



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Fix-It, Half-Elf Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jaskier gets a DOG, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, Jealous Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Rated For Violence, Slow Burn, not Geralt, who has the brain cell?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:20:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23373073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilsamarooo/pseuds/lilsamarooo
Summary: After the mountain, Jaskier decides he doesn’t need a big bad Witcher to follow around. If Geralt doesn’t want him around, his loss. So with that in mind, Jaskier promptly adopts a dog, befriends a stranger in the woods, sings new songs that are not about a grumpy old White Wolf, and life is going great... until it’s not.ABANDONED
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 50
Kudos: 314





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SomethingStupid2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomethingStupid2/gifts).



> This fandom has consumed my life. This one goes out to Delilah for slapping me out of my writer's block and beta reading my writing! Title from When She Loved Me by Sarah McLachlan, but I changed the lyrics a bit.

Well fuck Geralt of Rivia. Jaskier wasn’t going to put up with his shit for any longer. Twenty two _years_ together, and well, that might not be much for a half-elf with a lot longer left, but still! It hurt to be pushed aside like he was nothing. To be blamed for all the bad things in your unrequited love’s life, which, by the way, _weren’t even his fault._

Wiping away the occasional unwanted tear, Jaskier stomped down the mountain and back to where they’d left Roach. He gathered his things and slung his lute onto his shoulder, stopping only briefly to rest his forehead against Roach’s and murmur a soft goodbye. He’d miss braiding her mane when they’d made camp for the night and listening to her snuffles as he walked behind her. Behind _Geralt_ , like a starving dog looking for scraps. Sniffing bitterly, he drew back and started the lonely trek to the town they’d come from. Getting a head start would be good, especially since Jaskier had no way of traveling except for his own feet, and he didn’t plan on running into Geralt again. _Ever again,_ he thought angrily.

As it turned out, a tavern full of rowdy drunk men did _not_ want to hear a heartbroken bard sing tales of longing and sorrow. Jaskier huffed and tried to wipe away as much mud as he could off his _rather expensive_ red doublet. He’d been tossed out into the freezing rain three songs in, so now he had no money _and_ a bruised bottom. This week was not going great for him.

Heading far into the woods, he stopped under a relatively dry patch of grass and sat, leaning back on a tree, gazing at the stars, and shivering miserably all the while. Jaskier sat like that for an hour, too tired to try and scavenge in the rain for dry kindling so he could build a decent fire, until a sudden rustling in the bushes next to him had him jumping to his feet and cradling his lute case protectively in front of his chest. Summoning up as much courage as he could, Jaskier forced his voice into a loud growl, and amidst his panic, he amusedly thought of Geralt frowning judgingly at his poor imitation of him.

“I’m armed,” _Sure you are, Jask._ “So don’t come any closer unless you want to keep your life!”

The rustling continued and the bushes trembled, much like Jaskier’s knees, before parting to reveal a huge, monstrous, blood lusting, _terrifying_ …

Puppy?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I wasn’t lying when I tagged this a slow burn. I’ll try to make the chapters a little longer!

Well this was certainly… unexpected.

To be fair, the puppy had seemed bigger because of the shadow behind it, and because of how much it was shaking the bushes, and-

He was stalling.

The puppy let out an indignant squeak, as if Jaskier had been the one to rather _rudely_ wander into its camp and scare it to near death. Shaking his head in disbelief, he knelt down in front of... _him. Definitely a him_ , he deduced with a quick look, and took in how skinny the poor thing was.

Ribs jutted out under a matted merle coat, and tiny fangs peeped out from where the puppy was attempting to bare his teeth. He couldn’t have been more than a couple months old, and Jaskier was impressed he hadn’t been eaten by predators in the forest yet.

“What are you doing so deep in the forest, little one?” he spoke softly and slowly extended his hand towards the small pup. He let out a huff of laughter when a small, wet nose bumped against his palm. Picking him up gently, Jaskier set the puppy in his lap and twisted to reach his pack on the other side of him. Getting out his water skin, he poured some water into his cupped hand and let the scrawny pup drink his fill before tearing some pieces of jerky and feeding the dog between his own bites.

When the pup had eaten his fill, Jaskier got a thin blanket out before setting the pack under his head and curling up on his side at the base of the tree. He turned to glance at the puppy, who was watching him with intelligent, sky blue eyes.

“I wouldn’t mind the company if you choose to stay, you know. I’d understand if you leave, though, because I’ve just recently been told by a reliable source that I am a horrible travel companion.” Jaskier sighed and tried to get a white mane and soul-piercing golden eyes out of his head. Eyes beginning to shut of their own accord, Jaskier stared at the small pup one last time before sleep finally overtook him.

❧  
  


Wincing as bright sunlight hit his face, Jaskier groaned and stretched out like an overgrown cat, before freezing as he felt his hand nudge something warm and soft. His first thought was that he’d accidentally poked Geralt’s head _again_ (he’s been told he’s rather fidgety when he sleeps), but then the events of yesterday came rushing back to him and Jaskier paused mid-stretch, deflating as he recalled the harsh words Geralt had spat at him on the Dragon Mountains.

_‘If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands.’_

Jaskier wasn’t going to lie. Geralt’s words had hurt him far more than he’d been letting on. He sat up and pressed his knuckles against his eyes, breath hitching as he tried to stave off inevitable tears. _You’re pathetic_ , the small voice in his head hissed viciously. _Why can’t you just cast him aside like he did to you?_

 _Because I love him_ , he thought, tears beginning to slip out from under his clenched fists. _He hates me and yet I still love him._

A petulant whine reached his ears as two small paws dug into his thigh, and a wet tongue began insistently licking at his face. Jaskier startled and let out a wet chuckle, lowering his fists to see blue eyes staring back at him.

“You stayed! I suppose if you’re going to be traveling with me, you’ll need a name, yes? I can’t keep calling you ‘puppy’ in my head, it’s rude.” Running his hands through the dog’s fur thoughtfully, his eyes kept drifting back to the pup’s right ear. It flopped noticeably compared to the pointed triangle of his left ear, and he hesitated before saying,

“How about Flopsie? I know it’s rather silly sounding, but I think the name fits you quite well!” He scratched behind the pup’s limp ear absently. The puppy let out a series of high pitched yips and Jaskier laughed running his hand over the dog’s head.

“Flopsie it is! The audiences will love you,” Jaskier said, already imagining how much coin a traveling bard and his faithful pup could bring in, and if he imagined how much better it would be on the Path with a pup at his side as opposed to being alone as well, there was nobody there to witness it but him.

And onward Jaskier went, walking along the Path with Flopsie at his side. Tears pricked at his eyes again, _but this time_ , he thought, _I think they’re happy tears._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flopsie shows off a cool new trick!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The two verses of the song Jaskier sings while performing are original, and the song he sings to Flopsie is a version of When She Loved Me by Sarah McLachlan that I edited to fit the fic lol

Hesitating as he was about to open the door to the tavern, Jaskier looked back at Flopsie pointedly.

“You’ll behave, yes? I’d very much like _not_ to be kicked out of a tavern twice in a row.”

Flopsie let out a small howl and promptly pounced on a fallen leaf. Jaskier sighed with a fond smile. The two had walked for three days before arriving at the next town, and Jaskier was looking forward to a bath because a _certain someone_ apparently loved to jump in muddy puddles. Scooping Flopsie into his arms, he nudged open the door to the tavern with his hip and stepped inside.

The tavern was surprisingly packed for midnight, and a handful people stared at the newcomers, but Jaskier assumed they were only looking at Flopsie, who was wriggling in his arms, excited to take in all the new sights and smells. Walking up to the innkeeper, a woman looking to be in her early forties, Jaskier nervously patted Flopsie’s head, whispering a quiet “ _stop squirming!_ ” as he went.

“Hello there! Could I get a room with a bath and a hot meal for my dog and I? He won’t be any trouble and he’s very well behaved,” Jaskier said, and gestured to his lute. “He’s part of my performance, you see.”

It was true, Jaskier _had_ been trying to teach Flopsie basic commands and tricks while they were walking in the forest, and Flopsie had turned out to be a very fast learner. As of now, he could sit, stay, and roll over, granted he sometimes didn’t listen to Jaskier when he said the commands, but that’s to be expected of a puppy. The main trick Jaskier had been working on with Flopsie was to howl when he sang certain words during his songs. They’d only been working on that particular trick for a day or so, and Jaskier was nervous to see how it would go. _I suppose just having Flopsie with me while I’m singing is a bonus,_ he thought, but he’s always been an overachiever.

The innkeeper hesitated, glancing at Flopsie, before smiling slightly at the pup and nodding. “Aye, bard, you and your pup can stay, but there better not be any messes in the room when you leave,” she waited for Jaskier to nod enthusiastically before adding, “ I’ll take five coins off your fee to play, as well.”

Jaskier smiled brightly and swung his lute case over his shoulder, already beginning to open it. “Of course! It would be my pleasure to play in an establishment as fine as this,” he said, ever the sweet talker. The innkeeper rolled her eyes with a small smirk and handed Jaskier the key to his room before turning to a couple young children, presumably hers, who’d been looking over her shoulder at Flopsie throughout the exchange, and saying “ _back to work!_ ”, though Jaskier thought she seemed more bark than bite.

Setting his lute case at his feet, Jaskier hopped onto one of the empty tables at the center of the tavern, leaning back down and grabbing Flopsie to sit beside him. The pup looked about excitedly, panting and tripping over his feet. Jaskier let out a huff of laughter before turning back to his lute and strumming a single chord to gather the attention of the crowd. He was counting on nobody noticing that he was _formerly_ a certain White Wolf’s bard and asking for one of the Witcher’s songs. _I don’t think I’d be able to handle singing any of his songs right now,_ he thought with a rueful smile, before turning his attention back to the crowd, who was looking back at him expectantly.

“Hello all! I am Jaskier, a humble bard, and this is my faithful companion, Flopsie!” he said, gesturing to said pup, who let out an excited bark, much to the delight of the people. He started out with a few common tavern songs, staying on the less bawdier side because of the innkeeper’s children, and then branching out to some of his original songs. He grew slightly more nervous as he neared the song that would have the word he’d chosen to have Flopsie howl at, which, ironically, was the word ‘howl’. The song was a cheerful tune about avoiding werewolves, because if Jaskier was singing, why couldn’t he teach at the same time? _Here goes nothing…_

 _“So if you hear a_ howl _in the dead of the night,_

_Gather your silver, lock your doors, and stay out of sight!”_

At the word ‘howl’, Flopsie’s ears pricked up (or, his ears _tried_ to prick up. Only one succeeded), and he tilted his head back, letting out a long, albeit slightly squeaky, howl. As Jaskier strummed the last chord on his lute, the tavern burst into loud cheers and applause, and Jaskier smiled proudly. It had been a great performance and the inside of his lute case was a sea of silver and copper, with a few gold coins too. Just before he was about to tell the crowd it was time for him to retire for the night, a man at one of the tables shouted,

“Oi, bard! Play a song about the White Wolf!”

More than a few people nodded and cheered their assent, but Jaskier froze, a frown tugging at his lips and a painful memory in his mind as he replied in a strained voice,

“It’s getting rather late, I’m afraid. Come back tomorrow and I’ll see what I can do!” Jaskier said, fully knowing he’d only be staying for one night and leaving tomorrow morning. The crowd booed, but Jaskier paid them no mind, gathering his belongings and his coin from the night, scooping up Flopsie, and heading upstairs with a nod to the innkeeper.

He opened the door to his room and set his belongings near the small nightstand and plopping Flopsie on the bed. He sat down next to him and sighed, scratching behind the pup’s floppy ear.

“Well that was an _almost_ perfect night, wasn’t it, boy?” Jaskier said, staring at a spot on the bed. “I should be able to play his songs without bursting into tears by now, right? It’s not like he’s losing any sleep over me.”

He turned to look at Flopsie, startling when he found the pup silently staring at him with those big sky blue eyes. _He really looks too intelligent for a dog,_ Jaskier thought, amused. _It’s as if he’s actually listening to me._

“I know it’s dumb, but I did write a song for him while we were walking in the forest. I figured… I don’t know what I figured. I can’t even sing it to anyone because it’s rather obvious who the song is about,” he said, sighing. “I don’t suppose you want to hear it?”

Flopsie looked at him and let out a bark, nudging Jaskier’s arm with his head. Laughing softly, Jaskier picked up his lute and strummed, singing softly, as though he was afraid someone would hear him. _Maybe I am,_ he mused silently.

_“When somebody loved me,_

_Everything was beautiful._

_Every hour spent together_

_Lives within my heart._

_And when he was hurt,_

_I was there to heal his wounds._

_And when he was happy so was I._

_When he loved me…”_

Jaskier sniffled a bit at the end of the song, and wiped his eyes while letting out a sad sounding laugh. Woofing softly, Flopsie bumped his nose to Jaskier’s cheek and wagged his tail.

“I’m gonna go ahead and guess that you liked the song,” he said with a smile. Putting his lute back in the case, he startled when a knock came from the door. Opening it to find a girl standing with the bathwater, he helped her carry it in and thanked her before closing the door and shucking off his clothes in a hurry to get to the bath. Jaskier sank in, letting out a soft moan at the warmth of the water washing away the sweat and mud of the past few days.

“Flopsie, get over here, you _dirty_ dog,” Jaskier said, lifting the pup and setting him on his legs. He washed them both with water, and then dried Flopsie and set him on the floor before using his many oils to wash his hair properly, laughing as he watched Flopsie shake in an effort to get rid of the remaining water on his coat. After he’d dried himself off and changed, Jaskier slid under the covers and smiled when Flopsie yawned, nuzzling his side and curling up against Jaskier’s stomach. He mumbled a soft “goodnight” to Flopsie before letting his eyes slip shut.

❧

After paying the innkeeper and saying goodbye, he and Flopsie headed down to the market with the morning sun shining bright. Jaskier felt infinitely better after a hot bath and an actual bed to sleep in. it was _almost_ enough to get the eyes of his- _the_ White Wolf out of his head. Stopping at a silk trader’s stand, he haggled for a bit before buying a sky blue ribbon the same shade as Flopsie’s eyes. Kneeling, he tied it around Flopsie’s neck and smiled as the pup wagged his tail happily, barking.

“We’re an official pair now, you and I,” he said cheerfully. He stood and was about to make his way out of town when another stand caught his eye. Silver and steel daggers and swords shone in the sunlight, and Jaskier hesitated. _I_ am _traveling by myself now,_ he thought, before turning to look at Flopsie. _Well, mostly by myself. Either way, it’ll be good to not be completely defenseless._

And so he bought a small but sturdy silver dagger, slipping it into his boot in case of an emergency, and led him and Flopsie out of the town.

“Where to next?” he mused aloud, turning to stare at the pup jumping happily beside him. “The coast, maybe, or perhaps Novigrad? What do you think, Flopsie?”

The pup let out a long howl, running ahead to sniff at some flower or the other, and Jaskier smiled to himself.

“Novigrad it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Yennefer meets Flopsie and Jaskier! (She immediately falls in love with Flopsie because, let’s be honest, who wouldn’t?)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier has some internal struggles, meets some new friends, and reverts back to Julian, the reserved noble boy from Lettenhove. It's not all bad, though. He could still be third-wheeling with Geralt and his sorceress while they figure out whatever weird, on-off relationship thing they've got going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Gillian and Jaskier both talk about and recall when they'd been run out of villages and insulted for being homosexual. Jaskier also makes references to being abused as a child (mostly dark humor). It's only a couple sentences, but I'd rather be safe than sorry :)

❧

“We aren’t lost at all,” Jaskier said, glaring at Flopsie when the puppy tilted his head, as if saying _“That’s a lie and you know it”._ Turning to look in front of himself again, the bard groaned when he realized that they were still nowhere near the path. The sky was beginning to darken and Jaskier didn’t want to test his luck by wandering in the forest in pitch black darkness. What little sunlight remaining in the sky was filtered out by the trees looming above them, and if he strained his ears, the bard could hear distant howling. _That would be just my luck, wouldn’t it,_ Jaskier thought, leading him and Flopsie under the driest tree he could find. _To have my heart broken by the White Wolf and then eaten by a literal wolf._

They’d gotten into this mess when Flopsie decided he was feeling up for a spontaneous rabbit chase and bolted from the path he and Jaskier had been following. With Flopsie ignoring the bard’s calls, Jaskier had been left to stomp grumpily through the woods for almost two hours, shouting until his voice was hoarse and fearing that some wild predator had gotten to his puppy. It didn’t help his sour mood when said puppy had decided to announce his survival by bursting through the undergrowth and causing the bard to let out a very _manly,_ in his opinion _,_ shriek of fear. They also had a silent agreement to not mention a certain fumbled dagger being dropped on the ground and tripped over in haste to get away from the _very scary_ pint-sized pup. It wasn’t until Jaskier had stopped chastising the pup that he realized he couldn’t see the path or the break in the treeline any longer.

Setting his lute case down under a tree, the bard poked around the bushes on the edge of camp, looking for the least damp branches and twigs to use as kindling. The nights were getting colder and Jaskier would usually be heading to Oxenfurt around this time, but he didn’t think he could stomach being in the same building as Valdo Marx for the whole winter this year, listening to him teasing Jaskier about the Witcher probably being sick and tired of traveling with him. _He’s right,_ he thought miserably. _He did get sick and tired of traveling with me..._

A small bark startled the bard out of his melancholy thoughts, and he looked down to see Flopsie carrying a small twig between his jaws, chest puffed up proudly and his tail wagging hard enough to fly off. Smiling widely, Jaskier bent down and accepted the twig, which was admittedly useless because of how soaked it was with puppy drool. “Thank you, darling! Such a good boy!”

Flopsie yipped happily and stuck to his legs like glue, almost tripping him multiple times as they made their way back to the base of the tree. After starting a rather small fire, _it’s hard to start a fire with damp kindling, okay? I haven’t done this in months, so excuse me if it isn’t better than Geralt’s Witchery magic fire,_ Jaskier laid out his bedroll and slipped in, dagger tucked safely, _I think,_ underneath his rolled up cloak. The bard let out a small squeak as the pup stepped on his stomach in a rush to get under the thin blanket they both shared. Petting Flopsie’s back absently, he realized that he didn’t have any other option than to pick a random direction and start walking. He fell asleep cursing his luck and his stupid decision to not buy a leash.

❧

“Uh… hello? Are you okay?” a deep, honeyed voice that was way too close to his face for comfort said. Jaskier sat up abruptly, nearly bashing his head against the stranger’s own. Rapidly blinking sleep from his eyes, he looked next to him and saw a broad shouldered man who looked to be in his mid twenties, close to Jaskier’s assumed age. The man’s eyes, the color of glistening soil after rain, flashed in the sun as he repeated his question, and his raven hair contrasted nicely against almond skin. It was when he heard Flopsie by his side, trying to growl and failing miserably, when he realized that he needed to answer.

“Who the hell are you?” a fair question, considering the stranger had stomped into their camp while they were sleeping and creepily watched them.

“I’m Gillian,” the man said, sitting back on his heels and extending a hand. “I didn’t mean to startle you, it’s just... you were thrashing quite a bit in your sleep and I was worried.”

He was right, Jaskier _had_ been having a nightmare, but he didn’t think it would be so apparent. “Oh,” he said intelligently, taking the offered hand and receiving a firm shake. Luckily his parents had beaten manners into him as a child, _not the preferred method, but what can you do,_ and he cleared his throat. “Thank you, but there’s nothing to be worried about. Just a bad dream. I’m Julian.” It was true. He didn’t feel like Jaskier anymore. Jaskier was a naive bard who tagged along with his unrequited crush for twenty two years while he was insulted, yelled at, and pushed away time and time again. An annoyance to the Witcher and his sorceress. Then again, what chance did he have compared to her? No, _Julian_ was not naive, but he was quieter. More reserved. Choosing to silently observe than talk and risk angering those around him. A side effect from his childhood, surely.

“Pleasure to meet you, Julian. Where are you headed?” Oh, right. He was in the middle of a conversation.

“I’m heading towards Novigrad, but I’m in no hurry. I don’t really have anywhere I need to be at the moment. What about you?” Julian asked curiously. Gillian was traveling light from what he could see of the horse standing a few feet away from the edge of the camp.

Gillian got to his feet and helped Julian pack up his belongings, shifting nervously at the question. “I’m a blacksmith,” he said haltingly.

“Why’s a blacksmith traveling through the woods?” This time he asked more out of suspicion. That sounded a bit sketchy. Why would a blacksmith be out in the middle of nowhere? It’s not like he’d stumble onto a random forge in the middle of the woods.

“I… I was chased out of my village,” Gillian said, squeezing his eyes shut and seeming to deflate. “They weren’t as open to my... choice in partners as I thought they’d be.”

Julian frowned, coming to stand in front of Gillian, who seemed ready to be told to leave. _That won’t do._ He placed a hand on the blacksmith’s arm, prompting him to open his eyes. “Gillian, I’m so sorry,” he said softly, letting his hand reach for Gillian’s own and holding it gently. “I understand, I really do. It… it’s happened to me as well,” he admitted, and Gillian’s eyes widened in surprise. Memories of townspeople shouting slurs and threatening him when he first started traveling after leaving Lettenhove flashed behind his eyes, and he shook his head. “I wish I could tell you that it’ll never happen again, but I can’t promise that.”

Gillian nodded glumly, but Julian wasn’t finished. “I _can_ , however, promise that anyone who insults you in my presence will be getting their ass handed to them,” he said, baring his teeth. Julian may be more reserved than Jaskier, but he’s just as feral. The blacksmith smiled and raised an eyebrow in question, no doubt underestimating his slight figure, and one raised eyebrow turned to two when the bard drew his dagger from his boot, falling into a ready stance. His father had made sure he received proper weapons training, even though Julian despised it, saying it would prove useful in the future. _Fuck,_ Julian thought. _Father was right._

“Does that mean you’ll be traveling with me then?” Gillian asked, and Julian paused. Was he willing to travel with another person after he and his last travel companion’s dreadful falling out? He grit his teeth at the thought. _I will not let Geralt ruin this. He’s already taken enough from me._

“Yes, it does,” Julian said, praying his voice wasn’t shaking as much as his hands were. Gillian smiled widely and the bard relaxed some. This would be different. Gillian _wants_ him there. Leading Julian to his horse, he introduced them, which was strangely adorable.

Stroking the palomino mare’s flank with one hand, Gillian guided Julian’s hand with his own and slowly brought it up for the mare to snuffle at. She snorted and butted Julian’s chest, who stumbled back into Gillian’s chest. Laughing, the blacksmith dropped their hands to stroke her mane gently. “This is Oatmeal, and that means she likes you.”

Julian smiled and picked up his wriggling pup. “This is Flopsie. He’s a slippery one. I got lost here in the first place because he decided he wanted to hunt rabbits and ran off the path.”

Gillian laughed and went to stroke Flopsie, who sniffed his hand suspiciously before relenting and letting the blacksmith scratch behind his ears. “You do know the path is only a short walk away from here, right? I stumbled onto your camp because I heard you making a ruckus in the clearing.”

Face heating up, Julian barely resisted the urge to stomp his foot. “Yes, well, it was dark and I’d been walking for hours, not to mention the fact that I heard wolves in that direction.”

“No, those would be the dogs in the nearby village. It’s only a couple minutes from here.”

“Oh,” Julian said, and his face got more red, if that was even possible. Maybe he’d overreacted just a bit.

Smiling, Gillian extended his hand from where he was sitting on Oatmeal’s back. “Come now, I was only teasing.” Julian stared at the hand, dumbfounded. He’d had to be dying to ride Roach, and even then Geralt didn’t like it, and Gillian just wanted him to… hop right on up?

“I… are you sure?” Julian asked, staring at Gillian’s hand like it had claws ready to slice him. The blacksmith tilted his head questioningly at his reluctance but didn’t say anything about it.

“Yes, of course I’m sure, Julian.” Nodding, the bard let himself be pulled up behind Gillian, and he hesitantly wrapped his arms around Gillian’s waist, feeling the muscles move as the blacksmith guided Oatmeal over a fallen tree. Flopsie ran happily beside them, smart enough to not dive between Oatmeal’s hooves. The mare looked amused at the pup’s antics, her eyes following him as he yipped and barked at falling leaves. The village gates had just come into sight when Julian tightened his hands into the fabric of Gillian’s shirt.

“Hey, Gillian?”

“Hmm?” the blacksmith said, turning his head slightly to glance back at Julian.

“I’m glad you heard me making a ruckus in the clearing.”

Julian felt the vibrations of Gillian’s laughter where his arms were wrapped around him and he heard the smile in his voice when he replied. “I’m glad I heard you too, Julian.”

❧

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! After kicking myself for putting this fic aside, I sat down and rewrote the whole plot. Don't worry, Jask and Yen are still gonna be friends! Anyways, enjoy Gillian, who I now love, and Oatmeal, a total sweetheart. We'll get to Geralt and the others soon enough (poor guy almost never gets a turn with the brain cell and it isn't happening here either), but I want to explore Jaskier's relationship with his new friends a bit more. Happy reading! :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hard discussions and cute (but strange) nicknames, coming up!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check end notes for TW stuff, and happy reading :)

❧

“Sorry boys, only got one room left.”

Julian turned around from where he’d been watching a customer knock back four tankards of ale in less than five minutes. _Poor bastard looks like he’s gone through the wringer_. The four had reached the village, called Hogsfeet, _rather suiting, in my opinion,_ around noon, and then spent another hour trying to find an inn that would accept pets. Considering the fact that they were both dead on their feet and in need of a real bed, and possibly a bath as well, Julian nodded at the questioning glance Gillian sent his way. “We’ll take it,” the blacksmith said, getting out his coin purse. Julian’s objections were silenced with a stern look from his new companion, and the bard removed his hand from where it’d been ready to yank out his own coin purse.

Leading them upstairs, the innkeeper showed them to their room. It was a bit cramped, with two beds separated by a nightstand in the middle, and a rusting metal bucket sat in the corner. _Lovely,_ Julian thought, noting the questionable stains on his sheets. The innkeeper tossed the key onto the closest bed to the door and all but fled the room, glaring at poor Flopsie all the while. Gillian closed the door and locked it, turning to Julian with a small smile. “Tada,” he cheered, spreading his arms wide and spinning in a circle. “Did I not promise you comfortable lodgings?”

“You clearly have a different definition of the word ‘comfortable’ than I.” Julian narrowly missed tripping over Flopsie’s outstretched paws by the foot of the bed and set his pack down near the far side of the room. He paused when he realized how rude he was being. Gillian had gotten him a roof over his head in exchange for nothing, and here Julian was, whining about how it wasn't good enough. He opened his mouth to apologize, but snapped it shut when Gillian spoke again.

“Come here.” 

Oh no. The last time he’d fell for that one, he’d gotten a painful gut punch and a bruise that lasted for almost a week. Surely Gillian didn’t hate him enough already to punch him? Stomach knotting up, Julian gave a shaky smile and decided to take the safer route, which was searching for Gillian’s intentions. “If I do, you have to promise not to punch me,” he said, forcing his tone to stay light and joking. Gillian’s eyes narrowed and his brows slowly drew together. _This is a new record. Never been told to leave in less than five hours before._ The bard closed his eyes, wanting to do _something_ to lessen the inevitable sting of rejection.

“Julian, I would never hit you,” the blacksmith said, surprising Julian into opening his eyes. Gillian stood in the same spot near the door, looking… worried? “Why would you think such a thing?” The bard took a deep breath, debating how much he should reveal to Gillian. Nilfgaard was still running about after Cintra, and bragging that he knew the famed White Wolf would only bring trouble. No naming names, then, and absolutely no mentions of monster hunts, djinns, or Child Surprises.

“My last travel companion-” Julian hesitated, feeling unsure. His fingers played nervously with the ring holding his glamour up, a habit he’d gained from his sister. Coming around to sit with Julian on the edge of the farther bed, Gillian rested a gentle hand on his forearm. He smiled thankfully and sighed before continuing. “I… when we first met, he said those same words, and when I came close enough, he punched me in the stomach. I don’t really blame him, because I was being rather annoying. We traveled for a while, and I thought we were friends. He always hated it when I said that though. He’d insult my singing, and my clothes, and my personality, and I let it happen because we were ‘friends’, and friends tease each other, right?”

He sniffled, annoyed at himself for tearing up and accepting the tight hug Gillian pulled him into. It was easier to talk with your face smushed into someone’s shoulder, apparently. “We met someone, a woman, because I’d gotten myself into trouble again and was dying. As I was vomiting blood, I came to the startling realization that I loved this man who’d raced to the nearest village to save me, saying he’d pay whatever price, but…” This time, Julian couldn’t keep a small sob from tumbling past his lips, and Gillian’s breaths ruffled his hair as he held the bard impossibly closer. “But… by the time I was able to tell him how I felt, I thought he’d died. Turns out, he was fucking the woman in the rubble of a building. More years rushed by, and suddenly we were on a mountaintop, and he was blaming me for everything wrong with his life, saying that I was a shit-shoveler, and that if…if life could give him _o-one_ blessing,” his breath hiccuped, tears streaming from his eyes and soaking the blacksmith’s shirt. “It would be to take _me_ off his h-hands.”

When his sobs had quieted down to small whimpers, Julian somewhat reluctantly pulled back from Gillian’s chest. The blacksmith’s face was stormy, and he looked furious. Hushing the bard’s stuttered apologies, the taller man took Julian’s hands in his own and gazed intently into bloodshot, blue eyes. “Julian, I swear to you that I would never purposely hurt you, mentally or physically. I also swear to you that if I _ever_ meet your old travel companion, I will break his nose.” he said, _and wouldn’t that be a sight,_ eyes flashing with anger, before his features softened slightly. “I _like_ hanging out with you, Jules. I think you’re kind, and sweet, and a little bit feral, but that’s okay.” Julian giggled at that before pausing.

“Jules?” Gillian’s face rivaled a tomato and he dropped their connected hands to run his fingers self-consciously through his short hair, tugging at the strands slightly.

“Ahh, it just slipped out. That’s okay, right? Me calling you Jules, I mean?” Julian smiled, taking the blacksmith’s hands and pulling them away from his face to reveal a very flustered-looking Gillian.

“Only if I get to call you Gillybean.”

“...Gillybean? That’s a new one.”

“You know, Gillian, Gilly, jellybean, Gillybean. Get it?”

“I’m scared to find out how you came up with Flopsie’s name.”

❧

A slobbery tongue from a certain puppy startled Julian awake, and he _very gracefully_ tumbled off the side of his bed with a loud _“oof!”_. Hearing choked off laughter, the bard hauled himself up and shot a glare at Gillian, who was watching from his bed as he packed his things. “Rise and shine, Jules, we have a lot of walking to do today!” The blacksmith paused suddenly, tilting his head. “Are we still headed for Novigrad?”

Julian looked up from where he was squishing Flopsie’s cheeks and blinked, poking his tongue out in thought. “I dunno, Gillybean. I mean, I’m just going wherever the Path decides to take me, I guess.”

“Oh really, Jules? Where’s the Path telling you to go now?” Gillian teased.

“The coast,” he replied, taking a deep breath and imagining standing barefoot in the sand with waves lapping at his toes and the taste of salt in the air. Smiling softly, Gillian nodded, slinging his pack over his shoulder and slipping Flopsie’s collar onto the wriggling pup.

“The coast sounds wonderful.”

After gathering Oatmeal from the stables, the two men headed to the market, hunting for supplies for the road. Julian made sure to buy a leash this time, fastening it to Flopsie’s collar and nearly caving at the puppy eyes the dog sent his way. _Be strong, Julian, it’s either this or getting lost in the woods again because of a rabbit chase gone wrong._ By the time they’d finished gathering what they needed, it was nearly noon, and the two left the village shortly after. The walk was filled with the soft strumming of a lute, Julian not wanting to play too loudly and annoy Gillian, and Gillian’s compliments on his singing making the bard flustered. Oatmeal and Flopsie both exchanged what could only be amused glances at the strange antics of their masters.

Camp that night was under the stars, and Julian pointed out each one, having taken an astronomy class in Oxenfurt. _Good to know that wasn’t a total waste of time._ He took Gillian’s hand and guided it with his own, pointing to the different constellations lighting up the night sky and casting the softest glow upon their faces. Oatmeal and Flopsie were curled against each other, chilly now that winter chill was starting to set in. It wouldn’t be long before the first snow, but that won’t be a problem once they reach the sunny coast. Too tired to lift his hand any longer, Julian let their arms drop with an amused laugh from Gillian. Julian smiled as he drifted off, dreaming of moonlit walks on the beach and the rush of salty wind on his face.

❧

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Jaskier gets scared when Gillian says "come here" and assumes he's going to punch him (Geralt, this one's on you, my dude).
> 
> Up next: Jules and Gillybean have their first fight. Will this spell the end for the two's recently developed friendship, or will they push through and make it out to the other side? Find out next, on "I Keep Changing My Plot, Send Help"!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an argument leaves Gillian storming out of their beachside cottage, Julian hits the Path again. He isn't expecting Gillian to chase after him and burst into the inn he was staying at, and he would never have guessed who ran in after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to rewrite my plot again. What else is new? Enjoy!

❧

Two weeks had gone by in a blur and Julian and Gillian were finally at the coast. They’d rented a small cottage by the shore and every day, Gillian went into town with Oatmeal to work in the forge and Julian stayed behind and composed. He hadn’t played for a crowd since that night at the tavern, but it was fine because he’d been working on a new set. The two went on walks on the beach nearly every night, and the view was incredible. Sure, they saw the occasional Nilfgaardian soldier passing by their town, but they never looked hard enough to spot the White Wolf’s former bard. Everything was supposed to be okay now, right?

_Wrong._

“I just don’t understand why this is so _difficult_ , Jules, it’s not like I’m asking you to play in front of the whole Continent!” Gillian said, sounding exasperated. To be fair, they had been arguing for almost an hour. The problem was, when you have two men, a horse, and a dog living in one cottage together and only one of them is working, you don’t have enough money to support them all. Julian would _love_ to play at a tavern if he could, but with Nilfgaard moving further South, he had to be careful about where he was seen playing. If they got their hands on him, they’d be virtually unstoppable with the information he had on the Witchers and Ciri. Of course, Gillian didn’t know that he was Jaskier. The blacksmith only knew him as Julian. This was another problem.

“Gill, I don’t know how else to tell you this. I _cannot_ play right now,” the bard repeated for the hundredth time. “I promise, I will soon, but I can’t right now-”

“Julian you’ve _been_ saying that!” Gillian shouted, and _oh, he used my full name, that’s not good._ “All you do every day is sit around and sing, so I don’t understand why you can’t now! It isn’t easy providing for a whole other person and their dog, so excuse me for getting mad that you’ve just been sitting on your ass since we _got here_.” Each word pierced Julian’s healing heart and tore it back open. He wished he could just _tell_ Gillian why he couldn’t play, but then he’d be in danger too. Hell, he was already in danger just from Julian being around him! “Honestly, it would be so much easier if it were just Oatmeal and I.” Gillian stomped past him and Julian flinched at the sound of the front door slamming shut with a loud _bang_.

There it was. The rejection that Julian was dreading. “Fine,” the bard whispered hoarsely, tears stinging his eyes and making his surrounding blur into blobs of color. “If you don’t want me here, I won’t stay.” Gathering his thing and stuffing them into his pack, he was ready at the door with Flopsie in less than ten minutes. He looked at his lute, set on the kitchen table, and shook his head. It was just extra weight now that he was in hiding. No, it was better to leave it here. Maybe Gillian could use it as firewood. The pup, bigger now in the couple weeks they’d stayed, snuffled at his hand and let out a low whine. “I don’t wanna go either, Flopsie, but we aren’t welcome anymore.” Grabbing the leash, he ignored the sharp ache in his chest and the lump in his throat, heading out the door and trudging along the road leading out of town. Julian didn’t know how long he walked for, feet aching and tears dripping steadily down his face, but he stopped when he heard a wheezing bark and looked down to see Flopsie panting and wobbling on his paws.

Cursing himself profusely, Julian realized they were next to a forest and located a small stream, picking up Flopsie and letting him drink his fill, apologizing all the while. “I’m so sorry, Flopsie, I didn’t even notice- oh gods, I am a horrible person. The scum of the Continent. Here, I have some dried meat in my pack, you must be _starving_ , you poor thing-” After the bard had managed to stop his panicked rambling, he looked around himself and saw nothing but trees. This time though, he wasn’t lost. The sun was still high in the sky, and the pair set off again on the path, Julian holding Flopsie in his arms so the pup wouldn't have to walk anymore. It was dawn by the time the pair reached the next village, and Julian’s limbs were ready to fall off.

Using the last of his coin to pay for a room at the nearest inn, he hid Flopsie in his cloak and rushed them both to their room. Julian sat on the bed with Flopsie and the pup nudged his elbow with his wet nose, letting out a small woof, quieting when the bard started stroking his back. In the quiet of the room, Julian’s thought came rushing at him, making his head spin. _You keep attaching yourself to people when you know that all they do is wish for you to be gone. Why can’t you just learn to stay away from everyone? It’ll hurt less if you aren’t here-_ Shaking his head, Julian stood up and forced the voice in his mind to shut up for a little. He was wearing a plain shirt and generic trousers to draw attention away from himself. Nothing screamed “bard” like a royal blue embroidered doublet and matching pants.

He needed to plan where he was going next. Continuing to head South and staying ahead of the army was his best bet, but that would mean going back through Julian’s old town, and possibly seeing Gillian again. Was that worth it? _I’ll sleep on it_. No point in deciding now when he could barely keep his eyes open. Rolling under the covers, Julian felt Flopsie curl up against his side and tried to relax, taking a deep breath. He didn’t sleep till the sun was high overhead.

❧

Telling Flopsie to be quiet and hoping the pup would listen to him for once, Julian headed downstairs to get breakfast. It was noon, but he still felt the ache of his feet from hours on the Path without a break. As he was haggling over the price of the questionable stew, two loud _booms_ sounded throughout the tavern as the door was flung open once and then again immediately after. Julian paid it no mind and kept talking, but two shouts made him twist back around in shock.

“Julian!”

“Jaskier!”

❧

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep forgetting that I made Jaskier a half-elf lmao. It isn't even plot relevant, I just didn't want him to die. Next time: Geralt and Gillian finally meet, and Roach and Oatmeal decide that they're gonna knock some sense into their boys. Flopsie's just vibing with Ciri thb. Stay tuned!  
> Kudos + comments are appreciated! :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy reading :)

❧

To say that Julian was shocked would be a massive understatement. It would be more accurate to say that his whole world had been turned upside down, sideways, and set aflame in less than a day. Stunned into silence, the bard could only watch as Gillian pushed past Geralt, whose jaw tightened at the bold move from the human. Behind him, Julian could see Yennefer staring at him with an unreadable expression and… _Cirilla?_ Jaskier hadn’t let himself hope the girl had made it out of Cintra after the fall, but here she was, alive and well, and looking at him curiously. This was… a lot to process at once, and Julian didn’t even know how to start dealing with Geralt showing up after their falling out on the mountain.

“Julian.” Gillian comes to a stop in front of him, grasping his hand in his own and bringing them up to rest over Gillian’s heart. “Julian, I am so sorry. I just got frustrated and… fuck _._ I never wanted to make you feel like you had to _leave_ . I know you probably hate me right now, and I’d hate me too because I was a _massive_ piece of shit, but Oatmeal and I missed you and Flopsie, Jules. It was too quiet in that cottage all alone.”

Breath caught in his throat, Julian stared up into warm, brown eyes, and whispered, “I missed you too, Gills.”

To his surprise, tears were glistening in the blacksmith’s eyes, and he pulled Julian into a tight hug. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I would be the happiest man alive if you’d just come back to us. Come back to our _home_.”

The bard felt tears welling in his own eyes, and he wrapped his arms around Gillian’s neck, burying his face in the taller man’s collar. “Of course I forgive you, you oaf. Who would distract you with annoying songs while you chop the firewood if I left?”

“They aren’t annoying, they’re the highlight of my day,” Gillian whispered, face pressed into Julian’s hair. Julian could feel the blacksmith’s body shaking with repressed tears and he sniffled, grossly getting tears and snot all over the front of Gillian’s shirt. “I love hearing you sing to me.”

They drew back, both smiling and wiping at their eyes. It was when Julian realized he’d cried in the middle of a tavern that he let his eyes roam embarrassedly over the customers, freezing when they landed on the trio that’d walked in behind Gillian.

A threadbare blue cloak hid the princess’s blonde locks, and her worn boots were caked in dried mud. Yennefer stood behind her, clothes slightly toned down in an effort to lay low, but still high quality enough to make heads turn. Her hair fell in perfect waves down her back and not a speck of dirt could be seen on her face. And then there was Geralt.

The White Wolf looked exhausted. Streaks of dirt and dried blood crusted onto his armor, and his hair was a mess of tangles, with the occasional twig poking out of it. Dark circles under his eyes spoke of many sleepless nights. _The fool’s probably been meditating instead of actually sleeping again,_ he thought, before reminding himself that it wasn’t his business anymore and that if Geralt wanted to be self-destructive, then that was his problem, not Julian’s. _Oh gods, please don’t come over here. Just stay on your side of the tavern-_

“Jaskier.” The Witcher’s face looked stormy, and he was glaring at… Gillian? For pushing him aside to get to Julian maybe? Or maybe that was just his face, and Julian had forgotten how angry the Witcher always was around him. That sure put a damper on his mood.

“Geralt,” he responded, surprising himself as his voice came out cold and steady. He turned to face Gillian, who was looking at the two curiously. “This is Gillian. Gills, this is Geralt of Rivia, my old travel companion.” The blacksmith’s jaw tightened minutely, and that was all the warning either of them got before Gillian drew back his fist and punched Geralt square in the face.

The White Wolf tripped over his feet and stumbled backwards into a table with a grunt, blood pouring freely from his nose. _He must really be tired if he wasn’t able to block that,_ Julian thought, too stunned to react.Geralt snarled and moved forward, fully prepared to punch Gillian back, but Julian slid between the two, putting a hand on Gillian’s chest and trying to push him back.

“Gill, stop-“

“Jules, is this not the man that abandoned you on top of a fucking _mountain?_ ”

“Yes, but-“

“He _hurt_ you,” the blacksmith growled, easily stepping forward and shrugging Julian’s hand off. Geralt also moved forward, eyes flashing with an unidentifiable emotion and baring his teeth at Gillian’s words, and the three men were so occupied that they didn’t notice a certain sorceress standing behind them, magic crackling through her fingers. Just as Gillian and Geralt had both swung, a bright pulse of light hit the blacksmith in the chest, and he fell to the ground with a pained shout, body twitching with whatever spell was coursing through his blood. The sharp odor of ozone filled the tavern, but Julian barely noticed the other customers screaming and running towards the exits. He fell to his knees, cupping Gillian’s face in his hands and feeling fine tremors running through the man.

“No, no, no,” the bard mumbled, his thumbs brushing along the taller man’s cheek bones. A fresh wave of tears began to fall from his face and his breath hitched upon hearing the blacksmith’s pained gasps. He twisted back to see Yennefer looking at him strangely, and that infuriated him more. Did she not see that Gillian was in pain? “Whatever you’re doing to him, _make it stop,_ ” Julian shouted at her, voice breaking as Gillian gasped, another spasm of pain running through him. Behind him, Yennefer snapped her fingers and just like that, Gillian was gasping for breath, trying to push himself off the ground. As soon as the blacksmith sat up, Julian threw his arms around the blacksmith, hiding his tear-stained face in his neck.

“Jules, I’m fine,” Gillian said softly, rubbing the bard’s back as he cried.

“No, you were hurt,” he whispered hoarsely, the lump in his throat making it hard to speak. “I-“

“Jaskier.” Yennefer stood behind him, looking conflicted, but Julian was having none of it.

“No, we’re leaving. It was clearly my mistake to think that we could all handle this in a civilized manner, but apparently that’s too much to ask from you all.” Gillian took a breath, but Julian cut him off before he could start. “That includes you too, Gill.”

Helping Gillian to his feet, Julian brushed off his tears and made his way back up to his room, Gillian trailing close behind him like a scolded child. Turning around to glare once more at Geralt and Yennefer, _not Ciri. The poor child doesn’t even know what’s going on,_ the bard grabbed Gillian’s hand and led him up to their room. He was almost out of earshot when he heard the sorceress speak.

“ _Well that went horribly.”_

❧

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gillian kept his word and threw hands. Thoughts on this chapter? I don’t know if it came out as nicely as I was picturing it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gilly and Jules have a talk, Geralt and Julian have a talk, and then Geralt’s the one talking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW(s) in the end notes. Happy reading, friends!

❧

“…so,” the blacksmith began once they’d reached their room. “You’re the famous bard Jaskier, which means that was…”

“Geralt of Rivia,” Julian finished, looking at his hands. The two men were sitting next to each other on the bed, both dreading the inevitable conversation to come.

“I just punched the White Wolf in the fucking face,” Gillian said, laughing slightly hysterically. “Holy shit.”

“You also got hit by a spell,” Julian added helpfully, trying and failing to keep a small smile off his face before sighing. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you, Gilly, but we were so close to those Nilfgaardian soldiers, and I couldn’t risk putting you in danger, and I know I was acting like selfi-”

“No you weren’t,” Gillian interrupted, placing a hand over Julian’s. “You were trying to protect us, Jules. Gods, I’m so sorry I got mad. But it’s okay now, because soon enough we’ll be home and everything will be back to normal, right?”

“Right,” the bard said softly. He suddenly felt an overwhelming surge of affection towards the man sitting across from him, and he grabbed Gillian’s hand, looking into warm brown eyes. “Gilly, I…” I think I love you. But is it really love, or am I just using you to get over Geralt? That wouldn’t be fair to you, Julian thought sadly. “I’m glad you didn’t let me leave,” he opted for instead, letting his head drop down to rest against the taller man’s shoulder. He heard the blacksmith reply with a quiet “me too”, and felt arms wrap around him. They reluctantly let go and started to get ready to sleep, Julian making sure to leave a bowl of water for Flopsie, who was sniffing around the room. Gods, Julian hoped the dog wouldn’t pee on anything while they slept.

As the two men laid in bed, Julian listened to the blacksmith’s breathing as it evened out, and sank into an uneasy slumber.

He dreamt of the mountaintop. Geralt was shouting, but this was… wrong. The Witcher had a hand tight around his neck, not thrown off by Julian scratching at his arm in the slightest. He was forced closer and closer to the edge of the cliff, choking and crying, pleading , but Geralt didn’t even flinch. The bard was grabbed with both hands, and the Witcher smiled, but it was a cruel smile, and the light glinted off of his filed-down fangs. He looked so much like the wolf the Continent said he was, and Julian trembled in pure fear as he saw that the amber eyes he’d loved so much had turned a cold black, spidery veins surrounding his eyes and his face as pale as a ghost. Geralt laughed and a shiver made its way through the bard’s body, turning into a scream when the Witcher let him drop. He fell down, down, down, and everything turned black seconds before his face could smash into the ground.

Jolting awake with a gasp, Julian sat up and hugged his knees, trembling and watching the rise and fall of Gillian’s chest as he slept. Flopsie stood up with a low whine and poked his wet nose into Julian’s cheek. Smiling tightly at him, the bard slipped on his shoes and grabbed Flopsie’s leash when it was clear that the pup wanted to go with him. The innkeeper was sleeping in a chair when he arrived downstairs, and he quietly opened the back door, slipping out with Flopsie into the rain that’d started up earlier that night. Julian walked until he reached the riverbank nearby, sheltered from the rain by trees. Flopsie sat by his side and Julian sniffed, thinking about the dream again. It had scared him more than he wanted to admit. The sense of panic as he fell off the cliff was still fresh and he sucked in a few shaky breaths, trying not to cry again. A low growl from Flopsie had Julian looking up into the rain and meeting amber eyes.

“... Jaskier? Are you alright?” Geralt asked, halting his steps when Flopsie came to stand between the two men, teeth bared. Julian laughed a little at the confused tilt of Geralt’s head when he noticed the dog.

“This is Flopsie. I found him after…” he paused sighing. “After we separated. And I’m okay. I just had a nightmare, nothing to get worried over,”

Geralt came to sit down beside the bard, leaning back on his hands and staring at the river as the rain bounced into the water. “Do you… wanna talk about it?” he asked hesitantly.

“It was-” Julian let his head fall back as he closed his eyes, and the raindrops hitting his face felt like caresses. “It was about us. On the mountain, only you… you uhm,” Jaskier trailed off, not wanting to tell Geralt that he was the one that threw the bard off the mountain in his dream.

“It was about me,” Geralt said guiltily, and turned to take Julian’s hand, folding his legs underneath him so he was kneeling in front of the bard. “Jask, I’m so sorry for what I said that day. For what I said all the time, and how I acted when we traveled together. I was so mean to you constantly and all you wanted to do was help-” Geralt cut himself off and brushed the wet hair out of the bard’s eyes gently with his free hand. “You were my first real friend. The only person that wanted to be around me just because you wanted to, and I didn’t want to fuck it up so I just kept on pushing you away, which sounds like a stupid plan now that I’m saying it aloud,” he said, making them both laugh. “I hate that it took me so fucking long to figure it out, but as soon as I came down that mountain and you weren’t there waiting to fill the silence, I realized that my life is so much better with you in it,” the Witcher said, squeezing Julian’s hand gently. “And I know I have no right to ask this of you, but would you travel with me again? It wouldn’t be like before!” he rushed to add as he saw Julian open his mouth to speak. “I’ll be better, I swear. I won’t take my anger out on you ever again, and I’ll try to be nicer, I really will… I’d also like to be… more than just friends, too. I think it’s time I stop denying my feelings, so Jask, will you join me on the Path again?”

Julian’s head was spinning. Geralt was on his knees, begging for him to come back, to be together with him, but it still felt… wrong? Like he was being forced to decide between Geralt and Gillian, who’d asked him to stay by the coast. “I need to think about it,” the bard said quietly, and he drew his hand back from Geralt’s grasp. “I forgive you, but I don’t know if I can travel with you again, and I don’t know if I’m ready for a relationship right now.”

Looking down, the Witcher got to his feet and offered a hand to Julian. “I understand,” he said sadly, and Julian took hold of Flopsie’s leash. Geralt walked him to his room, and they said quiet goodnights. When the door closed with a soft click, Julian sunk onto the bed and put his head in his hands. He didn’t sleep that night.

❧

If Gillian noticed he’d left last night, he didn’t say anything about it. As they were eating breakfast, Geralt, Yenn, and Ciri also came downstairs. Julian gave a small smile and a wave to the girl. He hadn’t gotten a chance to speak with her since they all arrived. The lion cub’s face lit up and she waved back happily, causing the bard to huff in amusement. His eyes locked with Geralt’s over Ciri’s head and he felt his smile fade slightly. He wasn’t looking forward to picking between the Witcher and Gillian.

“Jules- or is it Jaskier now?” The blacksmith asked, blinking in confusion.

Julian smiled at the puppy-like tilt of his head and said, “Any name is fine, but to be honest, I’m feeling more like Julian right now.” Gillian nodded and looked down at his hands nervously.

“Jules, do you… I uhm- can I try something? Feel free to slap me if you don’t like it,” he said quickly, stumbling over his words. Julian nodded curiously, and was caught completely off guard by the sudden feeling of warm lips on his own, the blacksmith’s hand coming to rest on his cheek, his thumb rubbing back and forth comfortingly. The bard’s eyes fluttered shut, and he relaxed into the gentle kiss, the din of the tavern fading in the background, but something still felt… off. Pulling away, Julian smiled sadly at Gillian, who also seemed put off by the kiss.

“Gilly, I love you, but I think it’s more of a… friend love, y’know?”

“Yeah, I think you might be right,” the blacksmith said, smiling bitterly.

“Hey, none of that,” Julian said softly, covering Gillian’s hand with his own and bringing them down to rest on the table. “Gilly, you’re so sweet and caring, I just know you’ll find someone who loves you with all their heart, but it’s not fair to you if I say that I love you when I…”

“Love another,” Gillian finished, smiling softly. “I understand, Jules. But just for the record,” he said, leaning in and motioning for Julian to do the same. “If that Witcher hurts you again, I won’t hesitate to punch him a second time. I don’t care if he’s the White Wolf.”

Julian laughed, before freezing when he heard a chair roughly being scooted back, and he turned to see Geralt storming out of the tavern. Blue eyes caught amber ones, and the look of hurt on Geralt’s face was plain for even Gillian to see.

… shit. Geralt couldn’t have heard their conversation from across the loud tavern, so he’d just seen Julian kissing Gillian and laughing with him, right after he’d told Geralt he wasn’t ready for a relationship with anyone. Gillian gave Julian an encouraging thumbs up and a loud “hurry!” as the bard bolted out of the tavern, trying to catch up to the Witcher.

“Geralt!” he called, having found the Witcher in the stables with Roach. Predictable. The White Wolf turned around, and Julian flinched at the familiar anger etched into his face.

“Damn it, Jaskier,” he growled, and Julian felt his heart shatter all over again.

❧

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW(s): Julian has a dream that Geralt dropped him off the cliff on the mountain after they fought. He wakes up right before he hits the ground.  
> This chapter felt really rushed and I wrote it on my iPhone, so feel free to give feedback and point out typos.  
> Kudos + Comments are appreciated!  
> (P.S. I’m probably gonna be writing an alt. ending chapter where Gill and Jules are endgame :D)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier's mind breaks a bit and then rearranges itself again like a Rubik's Cube.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this chapter took a little longer to write than the others. I was feeling pretty shitty and I just self-projected onto Jaskier lol. Have fun, this is a bit of a mess!

❧

“Geralt of Rivia, don’t you  _ fucking  _ start this shit with me  _ again _ ,” Julian growled, stomping towards the Witcher and jabbing a finger at his chest. “You have no right to say shit to me, especially after that stunt you pulled on the mountain! You didn’t even give me a chance to fucking explain myself just now.”

Rain pattered on the roof of the stable, and Julian felt his anger rise with each drop. He wished he wasn’t the type of person who cried when they were angry, but tears were stinging his eyes and a lump was rising in his throat. This wasn’t fair! He was doing good and yeah, he had a fight with Gillian, and they would’ve gotten over it, but Geralt just had to barge in and get mad  _ again. _

“Jaskier, I-”

“I don’t wanna hear it! I’m  _ done _ with you thinking you can just treat me like garbage after the twenty  _ years  _ we spent together. What happened to your whole ‘I’m bettering myself’ speech from last night? Did you mean  _ anything _ you said?” Julian shouted, tears streaming freely down his face. His voice would probably be gone tomorrow, but he didn’t really give a damn at the moment. The Witcher put his hand on Julian’s shoulder but the bard shrugged it off, stepping away. It infuriated him that Geralt didn’t even  _ ask  _ Julian why he’d kissed Gillian. He just assumed the worst, as he always did. The bard was shaking at this point, sobs racking his body and leaving him cold and empty. Thunder sounded throughout the stable and the horses whinnied, stamping their hooves nervously. As the rain continued to beat down on the roof, the bard felt his mind crack a little. Julian… or Jaskier, did it even matter at this point? He’d been feeling this crushing sadness for  _ so long _ , and it  _ hurt  _ him, but now it was all he felt. Surrounded and suffocating in sorrow, and heartache, and pain, and he had to  _ get away. _

He turned and ran into the fierce downpour, ignoring the Witcher’s calls behind him. The rain stung his face and he couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of him, but that didn’t stop him from running like all of Nilfgaard was at his heels.

When the bard was finally forced to slow down, panting and swaying on his feet, he began to regret his decision just a little. He’d ran into the woods on the edge of town, and he could see that the moon was high in the sky behind stormy clouds and through the tops of the trees. It’d been noon when he left the stable. He was exhausted and soaked, and rain was still pouring down from the sky, turning the ground muddy and slippery. His body on autopilot, the bard found a sizable tree to sit under, and he hugged his legs, resting his chin on his knees.

It was terribly lonely, crying under a tree all by yourself in the middle of the night while lost in a forest.  _ I wish Flopsie and Gill were here, _ the bard thought, sniffling. The sound was lost among the thunder and rain, but it still caused him to curl in on himself. He’d overreacted hadn’t he? He’d acted like a child and ran out in the middle of an argument, and now he was stuck in the woods alone. Would anyone come looking in the rain?  _ They’re probably annoyed that I ran off, so I’ll have to find my own way back. Will they even want me back? I’ve ran out on Gill twice now, so will he even want me back at the cottage? I- _

“You’re rather stupid for an Oxenfurt professor.”

The bard jumped and twisted around, seeing a pair of purple eyes staring down at him. “Yennefer.” His voice was raspy and he sounded more like a frog than a man, but the sorceress didn’t comment on it. She came up beside him and placed two fingers on his forehead before he could react, and he felt himself slipping into a trance-like state. After a minute or so of her staring into space with an angry look on her face, she pulled back. The world came rushing back and the bard sat up straight, growling at her. “What the hell did you d-”

“Do you honestly believe that Geralt wouldn’t have come looking for you?” Yennefer asked, waving her hand, and suddenly there was an invisible barrier above them, shielding the two from the rain. He heard a bark from beside him and turned to see Flopsie wagging his tail. “Your… friend said it would make you feel better if I brought the dog with me.”

“You read my mind,” the bard accused, glaring at the sorceress.

“You’re avoiding the question, elf.”

Eyes widening, the bard’s hand flew instinctively to his ring. “How did you-”

“I’ve known since Rinde,” the sorceress said offhandedly. “Jaskier-”

The bard flinched. “Not Jaskier,” he whispered, turning his head away. Yennefer raised an eyebrow and looked at him curiously.

“What then, if not Jaskier? Julian?”

The bard shook his head slowly, breath hitching. “I… I don’t know.” He wasn’t Jaskier, or Julian, or anything, really. He didn’t know who he was anymore. It seemed that whatever name he went with, whatever personality he cloaked himself with, nobody was ever happy. Maybe he was just broken. The bard was too engrossed in his thoughts to notice Yennefer’s hand on his arm, reading his thoughts again.

“Stop,” she said firmly. “You are not broken. Yes, you’re hurt, but you’ll recover. You are Jaskier  _ and _ Julian, and anyone who doesn’t accept all of you doesn’t deserve any of you. It doesn’t matter which name you choose to call yourself because both are a part of you. It’s obvious that Geralt said the wrong again, and I have one thing to say about that.”

The bard… Jaskier? Jaskier tilted his head in response, too shocked by Yennefer’s words to form a proper reply.

“If the Witcher continues to be a bastard, cut him out of your life. You don’t need all this stress and hurt he’s giving you.”

Jaskier thought that it was… not the worst plan, surprisingly. Still, he felt the need to explain himself. “Gillian and I are just friends,” he said softly. “I was about to tell Geralt that we’d figured out that we were just friends, but he… he got mad again, so I yelled and ran into the rain…” he trailed off, rubbing his eyes. “Gods, I’m such an idiot! I acted like a child, and then you had to come out into the forest to find me-” Flopsie pushed his nose into Jaskier’s cheek with a low woof, cutting off his rambling.

Yennefer sighed, getting to her feet and looking down at Jaskier expectantly. “I’ll admit, running into the forest was not your finest move. Can we get back to the inn now? It’s cold out here,” she mumbled, rubbing her arms through the thin material of her dress. Jaskier nodded and turned to her just as she was about to step into the portal she’d opened.

“Yennefer?” She looked over questioningly. “Thank you.”

The sorceress shifted on her feet at the sincerity in the other’s voice. Sniffing, she turned her nose up and looked down at the bard. “Don’t let it happen again,” she said, no real fire in her voice. 

Jaskier smiled and grabbed Flopsie’s leash, getting ready to follow Yennefer through the portal. Just as he stepped through, he felt the hole in his chest begin to patch itself back together.  _ I think I just made a new friend _ .

❧

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was unsure of how to switch it back from Julian to Jaskier, so I thought "why not break his mind a little bit?". I think the ending was a bit rushed, but idk lol. Thanks for sticking around this long!


End file.
